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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25850539">One Sorry Sonofabitch</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl'>mldrgrl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The X-Files</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, F/M, Family Drama, other pov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:48:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,026</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25850539</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Had I not been asked to write a fic where Bill Scully and Scully and Mulder 'reconcile' in the IWtB/revival era, I would never in a million years write a Bill Scully fic.</p><p>We'll just consider this an alternate universe.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fox Mulder/Dana Scully</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>129</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>One Sorry Sonofabitch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He holds his tongue to spare his mother what he really thinks when she tells him that Dana and Mr. Mulder will be joining them for Thanksgiving this year.  He can’t believe the audacity that man has to show up at a family event.  And his sister isn’t much better for what she’s put their mother through over the years.  He can’t even remember the last time he saw her.  He thinks it might be ten years ago, just before his second son, Michael, was born.  Tara squeezes his knee under the table and he musters up a smile and a brief nod.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now that he’s stationed in North Carolina, it’s a lot easier for him to travel with his family instead of having his mother fly out for the holidays.  It’s their first Thanksgiving on the east coast and he’s annoyed at having the happy occasion intruded upon by his selfish sister and her ne’er do well friend.  He really can’t believe she still keeps that jackass around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He loves his sister.  He truly does.  He just can’t understand the foolish choices she’s made.  Starting with joining the FBI, but giving away her child and going on the run with her fugitive partner instead of putting her patriotic duty to uphold the law as her priority is just beyond him.  He would never.  He had hoped that whatever spell Mr. Mulder had put on her would’ve worn off by now, but alas.  And now they’re coming to Thanksgiving.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tara gives him a look when they hear the car pull up.  One that implores him to please behave.  His wife has no business being so compassionate, but that’s just the kind of person she is.  He hasn’t forgotten how his sister nearly ruined the Christmas that Matthew was born with that strange little girl and her impossible claim to her.  It should have been a time of great joy and instead Dana had made it sorrowful and awkward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fox and Dana just drove up,” his mother says, coming out of the kitchen and wiping her hands on a dish rag.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His sons jump up from the game they’re playing in the family room, excited to meet their mythical aunt they’ve heard tales about.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t run in the house,” he barks at the kids.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes Sir,” they say, stopping short and taking slower steps to reach the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tara is the one that greets them and his mother is just behind her.  Bill is the last one to the door and waits for the hugs and excited chatter to die down before he gives his sister a stiff embrace and Mr. Mulder a requisite handshake.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Mulder,” Bill says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just Mulder,” Mr. Mulder says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Matthew had a growth spurt this year,” Tara prattles, laying a hand on their son’s shoulder.  He’s taller than her by an inch, thin and reedy.  “As you can see.  Can you believe he’ll be thirteen next month!?  And we’ve got Michael turning ten in February.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matthew’s cheeks darken.  He embarrasses easily and his fair skin gets blotchy at the drop of a hat.  Both his boys are soft, like their mother.  He’d like to toughen them up, but Tara is fiercely protective of them.  A regular mother lion.  He doesn’t get it.  When he was a kid, he idolized his father.  Those few weeks or months a year when his dad came home were the best.  He was interested in everything his father did and how he did it.  His sons don’t express any interest in him and he barely hears more than a ‘yes, sir’ or a ‘no, sir’ out of them on a good day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maureen is napping,” Tara says.  “You’ll meet her later.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His daughter, Maureen, well she’s a different story.  She’s only a toddler, but she reminds him of his sister Melissa.  She’s headstrong and unafraid, particularly when it comes to her father.  She sasses.  She rolls her eyes already.  She ignores his orders and does what she wants when she wants.  She’s also cute as a button and has her brothers wrapped around their little fingers.  Tara calls her their little threenager. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ve still got time before dinner,” his mother says.  “Why don’t we head to the family room.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We brought pies,” Dana says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get them,” Mr. Mulder says.  He has his hands on Dana’s shoulders and gives them a squeeze when she looks back up at him.  They seem to hold some silent conversation.  To Bill, it looks like his sister is begging her friend to please don’t leave him alone in this house.  He doesn’t know why she’s here.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They gather in the family room and make small talk.  Tara finds the scrapbooks she puts together for his mother every year and shows off all the photos of the kids from their school activities and family vacations.  Dana nods and smiles through most of it.  Mr. Mulder is more talkative and asks all the questions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A half hour slips by and finally he hears a cry from upstairs indicating that his daughter is up from her nap.  Tara is on her feet in an instant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’ll be the little princess,” Tara says.  “I’ll go grab her and get her ready to come down.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll help you,” Bill says.  Tara looks at him strangely as he follows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maureen is jumping up and down in the playpen in their room when they walk in.  She smiles brightly and holds her arms up to Tara.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How’s my girl,” Tara coos.  “Let’s get you into the dress Grandma bought you for dinner and then you can meet your Auntie Dana and Uncle Fox.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call him that,” Bill says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Bill.”  Tara sighs and stands Maureen on the bed to start undressing her.  “You’re going to have to accept him sometime.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I most certainly don’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know, one of the things I loved the most about you when we were dating was that you always said that family was very important to you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It still is.  You know that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m just saying that sometimes your actions don’t say a lot about what I know is in your heart.  Will you grab me one of the Pull-Ups from her bag?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been cordial.  Hell, I shook his hand.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hell is a bad word,” Maureen says.  She scrunches her face and shakes her head as Tara tries to pull her red curls into a ponytail.  “No hair up, Mama.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Listen to your mother, Maureen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hair up or it’ll get washed tonight in the bath,” Tara bargains.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, hair up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s the one that abandoned everything, you know.  Not giving a damn about how it would affect our mother.  Tara, she gave her own child away for that man.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn damn damn!” Maureen shouts, jumping up and down on the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tara gives Bill a weary look.  “William Scully Junior, you know better than to use that kind of language.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maureen laughs and bounces.  “Daddy in trouble.  Daddy in trouble.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Daddy was being very naughty.  And so are you.  Get down.”  Tara holds her hands out and helps Maureen off the bed.  “Billy, Dana had her reasons, I’m sure.  Have you ever even asked her what happened back then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.  Why do you always take the other side of the argument?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, Billy, why do you like to argue so much?”  She smiles and pats him on the chest as she leads Maureen past him out the door.  “I’m just putting myself in her shoes and I know that if I were to have to do what she did, there would have to be a very good reason.  You saw how attached to she was to that little Emily and how devastated she was.  Think about that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmph.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Downstairs, his mother oohs and aahs over Maureen’s green velvet dress and Maureen twirls appropriately, delighted to be the center of attention.  His sister smiles warmly and kneels down to introduce herself to her niece and tell her how big she is and how pretty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, I know,” Maureen says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The women laugh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where are the boys?” Bill asks.  “And Mr. Mulder?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Outside playing basketball,” his mother answers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Basketball.  They should be playing a real sport like football.  The last time he’d tried to teach them how to punt and tackle it had ended in tears.  Matthew complained that the roughness might hurt his chances of moving up in his piano lessons and Michael said he preferred to work on his model cars.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bill lingers in the mudroom, watching surreptitiously and listening to boys play with Mr. Mulder through the open window.  There are a lot of high fives and hair tousling.  They don’t even seem to be competing, just taking turns with the ball, which seems a little ridiculous.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good job, Matt,” Mr. Mulder says, even when Matthew misses a shot that should have been easy.  “Loosen that wrist and hold that follow-through.”  He takes the boys’ hand and guides it with his own.  “That’s it.  Let’s try it again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matthew shoots again and they all cheer when the ball makes it in the basket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nice!” Mr. Mulder yells.  “Nothing but net.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both boys whoop and laugh and jump up and down like monkeys and grab onto Mr. Mulder.  He laughs with them and they have another round of high fives and hair tousling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“How do you know so much about basketball, Uncle Mulder?” Michael asks.  Bill cringes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I played in high school and I used to be part of a team at my gym.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you like being part of a team?”  Matthew asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it was great.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I want to join the debate team at school next year.”  This is news to Bill and he’s surprised.  Matthew is notoriously soft-spoken.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your Aunt Dana used to be on a debate team when she was in school.  You should ask her for some tips.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dad said that you guys used to be FBI agents,” Michael says.  “He said it’s like being a glory fried policeman”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Glorified,” Matthew corrects.  “Not glory fried.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Glorified, whatever that means.  He told Mom before that Aunt Dana should’ve kept being a doctor so she’d be more normal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bill grits his teeth.  He doesn’t recall ever saying something like that in front of the boys, but he’s sure he’s said it.  He wonders what else they’ve overheard through the years.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s probably true,” Mr. Mulder says.  “She’s a great doctor.  But, you know what?  Your Aunt Dana was the best agent the FBI ever had.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How come she quit?” Matthew asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever done something that made you really happy for awhile and then it just stopped making you happy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I used to like playing MarioKart,” Michael says.  “But, now I think it’s boring.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s kind of like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My favorite is SimCity.  Have you ever played that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I can’t say I have.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you like Guitar Hero?” Matthew asks.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, do you like Guitar Hero?” Michael echoes.  “We brought our Playstation and we can play.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not much of a musician,” Mr. Mulder says.  “But I’ll give it a shot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cool!” Both boys yell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bill chooses that moment to emerge from the mudroom and steps out onto the porch.  Both boys go instantly quiet and Michael starts dribbling the basketball he’s holding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You boys should run and get your jackets on,” Bill says.  “It’s getting cold.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not cold,” Michael replies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” Matthew answers and takes Michael’s arm.  “Thanks for the lessons, Uncle Mulder.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can keep playing,” Bill says.  “I just think you need to get your jackets on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s alright, we’ll go help Mom and Grandma in the kitchen.  Come on, Mikey.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael reluctantly hands the basketball over to Mr. Mulder.  “Thanks, Uncle Mulder,” he says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mr. Mulder nods and then it’s just him and Bill outside.  Mr. Mulder turns and dribbles the ball a few times before he sinks a basket.  He picks it up again and holds it one-handed in Bill’s direction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You play?” Mr. Mulder asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m more of a football guy,” Bill answers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“USNA is on a great streak in the Army v Navy games.  Think they can keep it up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t be much of a Navy man if I thought otherwise.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Were you on the team?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.  We won all four years I was there though.  Tied one year, actually.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think Scully mentioned that you dad had played one year.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bill can’t believe Mr. Mulder is still calling his sister, Scully.  It makes no goddamn sense.  “1957,” he answers.  “14-0, Navy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mr. Mulder nods.  The conversation stalls.  Mr. Mulder rubs the back of his head for a few moments and then he looks at the door and straightens.  Bill turns and sees his sister in the window.  She comes outside, pulling her sweater tighter across her waist and crossing her arms as she steps off the porch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mom says there’s about an hour left until the turkey is ready,” she says.  “Everything alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Talking sports,” Mr. Mulder says.  Dana stands close to him.  He puts a hand on her back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s good to see you, Dana.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You too, Bill.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The three of them stand in awkward silence.  A wind picks up and blows dead leaves across their feet.  Bill shoves his hands in his pockets.  Dana turns to Mr. Mulder and lays a hand very lightly on his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you give us a minute?” Dana asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Mr. Mulder answers.  He kisses the corner of Dana’s mouth and Bill’s cheek twitches irritably.  He spins the basketball on one finger as he walks away and then tucks it snugly into the corner of the porch before he goes inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can tell you don’t want us here,” Dana says.  Straight to the point.  His sister has never been subtle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s you that doesn’t want to be here.  You know, every holiday Mom would always bring up the fact that it would be so nice to have all her children at the table.  I have to say I agree with her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dana stares at him with a cool gaze.  “Are you trying to make me feel guilty?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m just telling you how it’s been.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All her children?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, we don’t need to fight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not fighting.  I’m just wondering if she includes Charlie in that, when she yearns for all her children.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bill shifts uncomfortably.  “That’s between them.  Charles is…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Charlie is married.  His husband’s name is-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Patrick.  I know.  I do speak with him on occasion.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dana gives a brief nod.  “Were they invited to Thanksgiving?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry that we didn’t turn out how you wanted.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What does that mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You always wanted to follow in our parents footsteps.  Be just like Dad.  Have the doting wife, the Navy career, a house full of kids.  Everything in ship-shape order.  They made it look ideal when we were kids, but it was never ideal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What kind of nonsense has that man been filling your head with?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dana snorts.  “The irony is, Mulder is a lot like you, Bill.  He values the sanctity of family even more than you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, so much so he forced you to give up your only child.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mulder wasn’t even there when I had to give William up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.  Where was he?  Not with his family.  You can be sure I would-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You would, what?  Step away from the Navy?  Reject a deployment order?  What would you do, Bill?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s my job,” he says, curtly.  “It’s what I do to make sure not just my family, but every family in our country is protected.  Tara understood that when she married me.  The kids understand.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure about that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you know what losing her grandchild did to Mom?  Dad’s namesake, Dana.  My namesake.  How could you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You sanctimonious sonofabitch,” she hisses.  “My son’s name is William Fox Mulder.  Named after Mulder’s father.  Not you, and not Dad.  And you have no idea how difficult it was for me to make that choice.  None at all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then why did you do it?  If it was so goddamn hard, why isn’t he here with us now playing with his cousins instead of with strangers?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dana looks away and licks the corner of her mouth.  She used to do that when she was a kid before letting loose with a temper tantrum.  He remembers her red-faced and stomping her feet, licking her lip before she exploded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you know that my life was in danger for all of my pregnancy?” she asks.  “Did you know William was kidnapped twice before he was eight months old?  Did you know that I had friends that were almost killed trying to protect him?  Did you know that I killed people in order to protect him?  Did you know that I made the biggest mistake in my life when I asked Mulder to leave us because I thought he was the one endangering our son?  Did you know that my heart felt like it was ripped out of my chest when I thought I had lost both of them forever?  Do you know that it took years for me to trust in the fact that Mulder forgave me for what I did?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bill feels uncomfortable and clammy.  He’s never seen his sister like this, as a child or as an adult.  She’s like fire.  Hot and terrifying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” he says.  “How could I?  Why didn’t you come to me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dana raises her brow at him like he’s said something completely incredulous.  “We’re family, Bill, not friends.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you even have any friend, Dana?  Aside from Mr. Mulder?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need or want anyone else in my life except for Mulder.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Including your family?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mulder is my family.  A fact I don’t ever think you’ll accept.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That man has poisoned you against your family.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That man is the reason I’m here today.  You’re right.  It is me that doesn’t want to be here.”  She turns and walks away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dana.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t turn back though, just walks up the porch and into the house and Bill is left alone.  He doesn’t understand how he could have grown up in the same house as each of his siblings, but how they all turned out so different.  He seems to be the only one that appreciates the values his parents instilled in them and not blatantly reject the status quo.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Bill comes back into the house, he sees Dana and Mr. Mulder in the dining room, having a very low and animated conversation.  Her hands are in his and his head is bent towards her.  She’s shaking her head and pulling one of her arms free to gesticulate with, but he catches it and clasps their hands gently to his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bill turns away and heads back to the family room.  The boys are on the floor with Maureen, helping her arrange her dolls to her satisfaction.  Tara and his mother are on the couch in conversation.  He sits down, feeling glum and perturbed.  Dana comes into the room, Mr. Mulder behind her with his hands on her shoulders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not feeling very well,” she says.  “Mulder is going to take me home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tara glances at Bill and he shifts his gaze away from her.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” his mother asks.  “Do you need to lie down?  You can use the spare room.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I wouldn’t want to disrupt dinner.  I think I have a migraine coming on and I have medication at home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But, Dana, it’s been so long since we’ve all been together.  Can’t you just…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let Dana do what she wants to do, Mom,” Bill says.  “If she wants to go home, let her go home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mother wrings her hands together.  He can’t stand the disappointment in her eyes and he doesn’t know how Dana can either.  The hugs goodbye are awkward.  The kids are confused.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uncle Mulder was supposed to play Guitar Hero with us,” Michael says, after they leave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Some other time,” Tara tells him.  “Go wash up for dinner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dinner is somber.  His mother looks like she’s on the verge of tears.  Tara tries to compensate by engaging the children in conversation, but the boys unhappily push food around on their plates and Maureen whines to be let loose.  Before they’re even done, his mother starts gathering up the dishes and bringing them into the kitchen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What happened?” Tara mouths at him from across the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bill shrugs.  “Mom, stop.  Tara and I will take care of the dishes.  Boys, take your sister and...show your grandmother that guitar game.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The boys looked relieved.  Matthew takes Maureen’s hand and they head to the family room.  After the leave, the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall sounds immense in the silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bill…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bill raises his hands in surrender.  “Dana and I had a talk,” he admits.  “It didn’t go well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that why she left?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She left because she didn’t want to show up at all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This really meant a lot to Mom.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you want me to do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe the only thing you can do is just accept the fact that this is all there is.”  Tara gets up, collecting dishes before she makes her way to the kitchen.  It takes Bill some time to follow, but he gathers up plates and silverware and goes in after her.  She’s got Tupperware spread out on the counter and is trying to match lids.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to accept it, Tara.  I can’t.  She’s my sister.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then what do you want to do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He scratches the back of his head and thinks, watching Tara empty dishes into plastic bowls.  “Pack me up enough of those leftovers for two.  I’m...going to go out there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You should take the boys with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s unlikely they’d turn the kids away.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That hurts because it’s probably true.  He finishes clearing the dishes for Tara and she neatly packs up leftovers and stacks them on the counter.  He grabs a sweatshirt and then goes into the family room.  The boys aren’t playing the video game, they look like they’re playing Go Fish with their grandmother and sister.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Boys, we’re going to take a drive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They look at each other and then look at their father.  “Are we in trouble?” Michael asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, son.  We’re just going to take a drive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can tell they’re reluctant to get up, but they do.  Tara brings them their jackets and loads their arms with the Tupperware and walks them to the car.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where are we going?” Matthew asks, buckling his seatbelt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to go see your Aunt Dana and...Uncle Mulder.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Michael asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s an hour-long drive.  Bill can’t think of a time he’s been alone in a car with his sons for that long.  They don’t talk and the radio isn’t offering anything decent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know, Matthew, your Aunt Dana was there when you were born?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She was?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She and your grandma had come out for Christmas that year.  They visited you in the hospital and you were only a few hours old.  And...your...Uncle Mulder was there too.”  Bill shifts a little in his seat and adjusts his grip on the steering wheel.  He was a little disgruntled at the time that Mr. Mulder had shown up with Dana at the hospital, but even more so when Tara insisted he have a chance to hold the baby.  He knows photos were taken that day, but he’s never seen them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did Aunt Dana and Uncle Mulder visit me too, Dad?” Michael asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, they were...they weren’t in town at that time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have I ever told you the story of when your Aunt Dana won a shooting contest when she was eight?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, I don’t think we know any stories about Aunt Dana,” Matthew answers.  “Except a couple Grandma has told us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I see.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want to hear it,” Michael says.  “I want to know the story.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Matthew adds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She learned to shoot pretty young.  My Dad had taught us.  She was the best out of all of us, even Dad.  She just never missed.  Some kids in the neighborhood caught wind of it and said there was no way a little girl could beat them.  They were older than us, maybe your age, Matthew.  Dana said she could beat the pants off of them, just come out to the woods and name the target.  She whipped those boys good.  Six older boys against one little girl.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did she win a prize?” Michael asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bill thinks back on that day.  He’d felt a mixture of pride and anger.  He wanted Dana to win, but he also looked up to those boys.  Their pride had been injured and therefore he’d tried to convince Dana to throw the competition at one point, pulling her aside and telling her she was hurting their feelings and should let them win.  She looked him straight in the eye and told him no way in hell would she lose to a stupid boy just ‘cause.  He’d been afraid the boys would retaliate in some way, maybe hurt Dana or even start a fight with him, but they hadn’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Respect,” Bill says.  “She won a lot of respect.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like something Maureen would do,” Matthew says.  He and Michael chuckle together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maureen is more like your Aunt Melissa.  Dana was a real tomboy.  She had to do everything me and your Uncle Charles did.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How come…?” Matthew starts, and then clams up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How come what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know Aunt Melissa died a long time ago.  But, how come we’ve never met Aunt Dana before now?  Or Uncle Charles?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is it because Uncle Charles married another boy?” Michael asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who told you that?” Bill asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mom said that’s why Grandma doesn’t like to talk about him and we should try to understand that Grandma comes from another time where that wasn’t ok, but that doesn’t mean it’s not ok.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She said that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmhm.  She said that if anyone at church or other kids say it’s not ok, we just don’t listen to them because God doesn’t make mistakes and love is love and God wants us to love each other.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bill is quiet.  He can’t believe his devout and traditional wife has said something so progressive and even went so far as to instruct his children to go against the church.  Good for her, he thinks.  Maybe if his mother had thought for herself once in awhile they wouldn’t have such a fractured family.  He can’t believe that thought just crosses his mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You boys listen to your mother,” Bill says.  “She’s a good woman and I’m glad you’re both more like her than like me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re good too, Dad,” Matthew says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You think so?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you do a really hard job and it’s important and you’re in charge of it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And Mom says that’s why we shouldn’t bother you with trivial things,” Michael says.  “So you can relax when you’re home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bill is quiet for a few moments and he glances at both boys in the rear view mirror.  “I want you boys to know that you’re never a bother to me.  Not ever, alright?  You can come to me with anything.  You understand?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Sir,” they both say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And to answer your question, you haven’t met your Aunt Dana or Uncle Charles before because I think...I think it’s hard for them to feel welcome.  That’s why I’m taking you out to Dana and Mulder’s house right now so I can make sure they know they’re welcome.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Will we get to meet Uncle Charles one day, too?” Michael asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I promise that when we get home I’ll call him and ask him if he wants to come for a visit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cool,” Matthew says.  “Three new uncles and an aunt.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The roads start to become more rural and desolate.  It’s only twilight, but it feels even darker without any streetlamps or other passing cars.  Bill turns off onto a dirt road and slowly bumps along the unpaved path.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think this is it,” Bill says, pulling up to a gate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do they live on a farm?” Michael asks.  “It looks like a farm.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think so.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bill is about to call Dana’s phone when he sees Mr. Mulder step out onto the porch, holding what looks like a long-barreled shotgun.  He turns on the cab light of the car and then lowers the window and leans out, raising a hand in greeting.  Mr. Mulder looks like he’s squinting and then he goes back inside and turns on the porch light.  When he comes back out, he’s no longer holding the gun and he jogs down from the porch and down the path behind the gate.  Bill sees his sister come out onto the porch a few moments later.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bill?” Mr. Mulder asks once he’s close enough to be heard.  “What’re you doing out here?  Everything alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The boys and I brought leftovers,” Bill says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh.  Okay.  Let me just unlock the gate, just a second.”  Mr. Mulder begins to unlock some chains around the gate.  “Scully’s been nagging me to put this on a remote, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.  Drive on up, I’ll be right behind you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bill drives slowly down the lane and Mr. Mulder stays in the shadow of his taillight.  He parks behind the car in front of the porch and the boys are quick to unlock their belts and scramble out of the car.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is this a farm?” Michael asks, running up to Mr. Mulder and taking his hand.  “Do you have cows?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, buddy, no cows,” Mr. Mulder answers.  “I think there might have been horses here at one time.  There are some stalls out in the field behind the house.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bill gathers the Tupperware from the floorboards of the passenger seat and Matthew is right behind him to help him get everything out.  Dana stands on the porch in a defensive pose, guarding her territory.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come in,” Mr. Mulder says.  He guides Michael up the stairs ahead of him.  Dana gives Mr. Mulder a look, but then smiles at Michael.  Tara was a genius to tell him to take the boys.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The interior surprises Bill.  It’s cozy, almost cabin-like.  There are afghans on the couch and a well-used recliner.  They’ve got a wood burning stove and a fire going.  His sister is wearing slippers.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mr. Mulder leads them all to the kitchen and takes the Tupperware from Matthew and from Bill.  “Be sure to thank Maggie for us,” he says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I will.”  There’s a few beats of silence and Bill eyes his sister.  “Dana, would you mind if we talked for a few minutes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hesitates and glances at the boys.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You guys can go on the porch,” Mr. Mulder offers.  “Maybe...these guys might like some ice cream?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we?” Michael asks, turning to Bill.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bill nods.  Never in his life did he expect to feel gratitude towards Mr. Mulder for anything, but he does in this moment.  The boys cheer.  Dana doesn’t look happy, but she takes her brother out to the porch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not here to fight,” Bill says.  “I just want you to know that up front.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why are you here?” she asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because I don’t like the way we left things.  I want to start by apologizing for...not giving you the benefit of the doubt.  Or supporting you when you needed it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dana looks surprised and a little chagrined.  Her eyes water a bit.  She wraps her arms across her middle and looks at her feet.  “Thank you,” she says.  “That means a lot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was telling the boys on the way over about that time you won the shooting contest when you were a kid.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She snorts softly.  “You were so mad at me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I was proud of you.  I didn’t tell you that back then, but I probably should have.  Maybe it’s because of things like that that you felt you couldn’t talk to me when you were going through a hard time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What I’m not going to apologize for, though, is my life or my family.”  He pauses while she looks up and opens her mouth, but then she closes it again and nods a little.  “I don’t think I’m wrong for wanting to live in the example our parents set for us.  They were happily married for almost forty years and, God willing, I’d like to make it to my fiftieth anniversary and still be just as happy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You probably will.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think you might too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dana raises her brow.  Bill rubs the back of his neck and exhales, deeply.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The kids were telling me earlier that love is love,” he says.  “And, now that I’ve seen the two of you together, I think that he kind of seems like a decent guy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t be with him if he wasn’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t suppose you would.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dana looks at her feet again and rocks back and forth on her heels for a moment.  “I would also like to apologize for keeping you in the dark about so many things for so long.  I’ve been so accustomed to needing to keep things private, I forget that I can rely on other people.  Mulder has to remind me of it at times when I start to shut him out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were like that as a kid.  Tough as nails, wouldn’t show a weakness to save your life.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And a quick temper.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that too.”  Bill chuckles.  Dana smiles slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry I left like that.  I hope Mom wasn’t too upset.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think it might be salvaged if you thought about maybe coming by tomorrow?  The boys really seemed to take to...their Uncle Mulder.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s really great with kids,” Dana whispers and two tears fall down her cheeks.  She dips her head once more and puts a hand over her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bill steps closer and pulls her in against his chest.  She puts her arms around him and he rubs her shoulder a little.  “I can’t imagine, Dana.  What you must feel.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Some days are harder than others.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Does he help you through it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Always.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a few moments of silence, Dana sighs and then pulls away and wipes her eyes.  Bill stops her before they go back inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“One more thing,” he says.  “It’s important to me that you know that I don’t agree with Mom on everything.  Just because I believe that her issues with Charles are her business, doesn’t mean I think she’s right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hell no.  That’s her son.  I would never.  The thing is, Charles has told me he chooses to limit his contact with both of us so that it won’t cause problems between us and Mom, if she knows that we speak with him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And, thinking about what you said and just...thinking about it in general, tonight, I’ve decided that if Mom can’t handle the fact that I have a relationship with my brother, that’s also her problem.  I’m going to invite Charles and Patrick out to North Carolina for Christmas.  I want to extend the same invitation to you and Mr. Mulder as well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s just Mulder.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You guys are so weird about your names.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s how we like it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bill puts his hands up in surrender.  Dana opens the door and he follows.  The boys are laughing at something.  Mulder gets up from the table when he sees them and Dana walks into his arms.  He rubs her back and nods at Bill.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I get you a bowl of ice cream?” Mulder asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dad, did you know that Aunt Dana and Uncle Mulder once arrested a man that was half-worm and lived in a sewer?!” Michael exclaims.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tried to arrest,” Mulder amends.  “We only caught half of him.  The tail end, unfortunately.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gross!” the boys cry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really, Mulder?” Bill asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mulder shrugs.  Bill sighs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The End</span>
</p><p>
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